


Land of the Living

by averyk4



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence, Dom/sub Undertones, Emperor Hux, First Time, Hux is an asshole, Kissing, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Virgin Kylo Ren, does hux even like kylo?, dom/sub overtones who am I even kidding, off camera violence, weird touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6972145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averyk4/pseuds/averyk4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of Hux's greatest triumph, he reflects upon the steps it took to get there. Kylo has very little to say on the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Land of the Living

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Kylux Big Bang and features art at the end by [siith](www.siith.tumblr.com) and you should go shower them in love and cuddles because holy cannoli I can't handle how beautiful it is! The title comes from "Land of the Living" by Roo Panes, because I love being an ass.

“Kylo, do you remember when we first met?” 

His voice is just above a whisper, not that there’s anyone else to hear it. The silence is deafening, like the great pause before a storm, like the first inhale before a speech designed to sentence planets to death. The air itself is still, coppery, particles of dust dancing to a symphony no one can hear.

Pale hands -- shaking, ever so slightly -- run through dark hair, smoothing it out, untangling snarls. He can’t remember a time when he spent so long attempting to make Kylo presentable, supposes it’s a cruel twist of irony that he’d try so hard here, now. 

He smooths out Kylo’s brow, wicks away a bead of sweat with his thumb. He receives only a sharp inhale of breath in return -- it’s enough.

He looks peaceful like this, calm. Hux can't help but think it's wrong -- there's no scowl, no sign of the hatred and passion coursing through his veins.

“Do you remember how much I loathed you? With your stupid bucket hat and your ridiculous cape?” His voice almost cracks -- he hates himself for it, hates the accidental display of weakness. 

The Emperor of the Galaxy cannot be weak, after all.

~*~

When Hux first meets Kylo, he’s only twenty-two. He finds everything about Ren absolutely preposterous and is convinced that this is simply some farce that he hasn’t been let in on yet. Ren is taller and more imposing that he had initially anticipated, wearing more layers than could be considered practical. Hux offhandedly wonders if he’s ever tripped over the robes, can't help the slight upturn of his lips at the thought.

He'd initially thought that being tasked with supervising Ren -- the Supreme Leader’s chosen apprentice -- during his time on board was a privilege, an honour based upon his years of dedicated service to the First Order. Seeing Ren stomp off the shuttle entrance ramp into the hangar bay of the _Ascendancy_ like a child whose favourite toy had been stolen away causes him to reevaluate his opinion.

The fact that he has to call him _Lord_ is simply salt in the wound, and at this point he’s just happy that he’s not expected to bow. Hux isn’t sure if his pride could handle it. He’s never been a believer in mysticism, in _the Force_ , or any such nonsense like that. Hux is a man of principle, of science, and being forced to answer to a masked man who insists on believing in some hokey religion grates on him. 

“ _Lord_ Ren,” he bites out, offers a salute that would do his father proud, were he still around to see it.

“Major Hux,” Ren replies, vocoder erasing any traces of emotion from his voice. Hux stares into the blackness of Ren’s mask, darker than any star system he’s borne witness to in his not negligible time in the void of space, and tries to make out the face behind it -- an impossible task, he soon finds. He isn't entirely certain how Ren knows his name, assumes that the Supreme Leader wouldn't have briefed him on the chain of command beyond General Udina and the role of the _Ascendancy_ within the First Order. He thinks, with no small amount of trepidation, that perhaps Ren plucked it out of his head.

Ren makes as a sound that could only be considered a snort, confirming his hypothesis.

Hux turns on his heel, walking at a brisk pace, already irritated with the Jedi, Sith, _whatever_ he considers himself. “General Udina sends his deepest regrets that he was unavailable to meet you in the hangar himself,” Hux grinds out through clenched teeth, willing his face into a facade of calm. “I will show you to --”

“My quarters, and then the bridge. There's no need, Major. I know where I need to go.” Ren's voice sounds amused, or at least as amused as someone with a voice modulator can sound. Hux can feel his fists clench without his approval.

“I -- that's irrelevant, Lord Ren. I can't simply allow you to go gallivanting around the ship without proper supervision.”

Ren brushes past him, clearly intent on ignoring whatever he has to say -- _kriffing civilians_ , Hux thinks. Ren might be the Supreme Leader’s favoured apprentice, but he's decidedly not an official member of the First Order, a distinction Udina wanted to make perfectly clear to every ranked officer onboard the _Ascendancy_. It's perhaps the first competent thing he's said in a standard month cycle.

Hux reaches out, grabs Ren's sleeve with gloved fingers, attempting to stop him -- not his smartest move, he thinks in retrospect, when he feels his head suddenly collide with the wall that was until moments ago ten feet behind him.

Trying to sit up is difficult, much more difficult than he remembers it being scant seconds ago -- he can feel a trickle of blood running down his face, staining the heavily starched collar of his uniform. Hux cringes internally at the extra laundry this incident is going to create, can't find the energy to show his annoyance in any visible way.

Ren stands above him, breathing more heavily than he has any right to. Hux wants to tell him off for the _completely unnecessary_ overreaction, can't make the words come out in an order that makes sense. He scrambles onto his feet, only to fall back into the wall, hands barely holding him up, fingers slipping on the smooth surface of durasteel.

“You -- what did you -- do?” The words slur around in his mouth, like he can't quite grasp them. Hux would be embarrassed if he had all his faculties in proper working order. As it is, he's happy he can still speak.

“You touched me.” The incredulity in Ren’s voice is evident even through the vocoder.

“I -- yes.” He isn't sure why he did it. The impulse took him suddenly, was gone as soon as it had come.

“ _You_ touched me.” Hux imagines Ren has an imbecilic look on his face, wants to punch it off, wants to keep punching until Ren hurts as much as he does.

“If you k-keep repeating -- repeating yourself, pe-people are going to forget -- you're sentient.” It's not his best delivered line, but Hux is impressed that he managed it at all. The floor has stopped shifting, as though his hold on the durasteel levelled it somehow.

Ren tilts his head, and Hux is suddenly struck by the similarities between the knight and a mooka. The thought makes him sneer.

“Do you want to die, Major Hux? I could do it, you know. It would be easy. I could tear your mind apart faster than you could blink.”

“Could? Or -- or will?” Hux baits, with a calmness that surprises him. 

Ren doesn't respond. He draws himself up to his full height -- Hux hadn't realized he'd been slouching -- and turns on his heel, storms off in what is decidedly not the direction of his quarters, nor the bridge.

Hux can't even find it within himself to care.

~*~

He smirks down at Kylo’s prone form, passes his hands through his hair again, untangling knots. Kylo groans at the touch, leans into it. It's not the most comfortable position for them to be in -- Hux can't be be bothered to move.

Bruises -- deep purples, sickly greens, earthy browns -- litter every inch of Kylo’s somewhat exposed torso. Hux is struck by their beauty, the way they paint the canvas of his skin.

“I don't think I went near you for a week after that, you know. Not that I was _afraid_. I just couldn't be bothered to deal with your incompetence.” The laugh he lets escape is shaky, hesitant.

Kylo doesn't reply. 

Hux wasn't expecting him to, anyways. 

He struggles to find something to talk about, doesn't want to bring up anything tinged by the fury of their hatred, their mutual loathing-- if it could be called that, now. Hux isn't sure. It occurs to him that he's never been unsure before -- always steadfast in his beliefs, in his objectives and goals and plans. 

He doesn't like it.

The silence rings in his ears -- Hux wants it gone, wants, for the first time in his life, to hear the sounds of civilization around him.

“I -- what about the first time that you assaulted my mouth with yours? It could hardly be called kissing.” 

Another hollow laugh. 

Another echoing silence in response.

~*~

Their first kiss is awful -- not intentionally so, but awful nonetheless. Ren is all teeth and tongue, attacking Hux with the brute force he carries into battle. Hux isn’t surprised.

They'd been dancing around this moment for months -- since Hux’s promotion to General, in fact. The sudden equal footing they found themselves on -- constantly vying for the approval of the Supreme Leader, sharing command of the _Finalizer_ \-- had filled them with an unexpected tension, a constant desire to push the other just a bit further than they day before.

Hux should have known that the culmination of their rivalry would land him with Ren’s tongue down his throat.

He pushes Ren’s face away with one gloved hand, delighting in the shocked expression he finds. “You don't honestly expect me to put up with kissing that horrible, do you?” he sneers, vitriol dripping from every word. “I've kissed banthas with more talent than--”

The familiar feeling of phantom hands gripping his throat in a vice has Hux rolling his eyes. _Honestly_ , he thinks, _it's like putting up with a child_.

“I. Am. Not. A. Child.” Ren lets him drop to the ground unceremoniously, towering over him as he rubs his neck.

“No? Then stop kriffing acting like one, would you?” Hux swallows on nothing, trying to eliminate the strange itchiness that always comes with being choked by a force using lunatic. _A force using lunatic who was kissing you, his brain supplies_ , rather unhelpfully. “Must you continue to stand there looming like some lecherous creature in a back alley on Nar Shadaa?” 

When Ren makes no attempt to move, Hux sighs. “Fine, have it your way,” he says, before punching him in the gut.

Ren doubles over, and Hux uses his momentary surprise to push him onto his back. He pins the knights’ hands down with his own, straddles his hips. Hux is under no illusions about how easy it would be for Ren to break out of his hold -- he has _magic_ on his side, after all -- but he can't help but enjoy the feel of Ren underneath him, subjugated to his will.

“Now then,” he starts, bringing his lips to a hover just above Rens’. “Would you like me to teach you how to kiss, or are you going to attempt to maul my face like some sort of feral animal?”

Ren looks up at him, doe eyed, pupils blown wide in shock and what Hux assumes is arousal, although he can't be sure. Hux watches as his tongue darts out and wets his lips, nervousness evident. “I -- show me. I've never -- this. Show me.”

“That sounded suspiciously like an order, Ren. Surely you haven't forgotten that we are _equals_ , you and I?”

Ren’s face sours at the word equals, like it's done him some personal disservice. “No,” he answers, finally, after a long moment of deliberation. “I've not forgotten. Would -- would you show me?”

Smirking, Hux replies without words, leaning down the last few inches to meet Ren’s lips. They’re soft, much more supple than he would have anticipated, now that he’s not being mauled. Each time that Ren -- _Kylo_ , a voice supplies in the back of his mind, softly -- tries to take charge, teeth attempting to catch Hux’s lips, and on one unfortunate occasion, his tongue, Hux backs off. He can feel frustration rolling off Kylo in waves, washing over him.

Kylo looks like a man possessed.

Hux gives Kylo’s long hair a light tug, keeping his head in place, and receives a surprised gasp in return. “Stop squirming,” Hux mouths against Kylos’ lips, grins at the frustrated whine he gets in return.

“If you stopped being such a withholding pain in the ass, maybe that wouldn't be an iss--”

Hux kisses him again, if only to shut him up. He licks into Kylo’s mouth -- it takes Kylo a few moments to reciprocate, but when he does, it's with all the enthusiasm he can muster from his prone position under Hux.

Grinning into the kiss, Hux releases his hold on Kylo's other arm, cupping his cheek in a mimicry of what he's seen of lovers in holovids. 

Kylo relaxes into the touch, and Hux hates him for it. Hates the way he wants Kylo pliant under him. 

He takes Kylo’s bottom lip in his teeth, bites down until he tastes copper, tastes anything that will wipe away the cloying sweetness he can feel welling inside of him. The bite elicits a gasp from Kylo, high and breathy and so utterly repugnant that Hux does it again, and again, and again, until Kylo’s lips are red and bleeding.

Hux pulls back, surveys his handiwork for a moment. Kylo blinks up at him, tongue darting out to taste his own blood.

“What a filthy creature you are, Kylo Ren,” Hux says, more to himself than to the man beneath him. He can feel Kylo’s hardness pressing up through uncountable layers of cloth, hear the whimpers that Kylo is probably not aware he's vocalizing. “Who would have thought that the Master of the Knights of Ren could get hard from a bit of kissing, like a teenager.”

He ignores the fact that his own jodhpurs are starting to feel overwhelmingly constricting.

“The next time we do this, I expect you to be better behaved from the get go. Do you understand?”

Kylo looks up, dazed. “I -- what? Where are you -- stop! You can't just --”

Hux is already out the door, the durasteel closing on Kylo’s confused pleas.

~*~

The sound of blaster bolts echoing through the hallways outside the chamber -- _their_ chamber, for all intents and purposes -- forces Hux to look up.

Beneath him, Kylo barely stirs.

A trooper enters their room, and Hux has to fight to repress his eyeroll. _Surely they can’t be that incompetent_ , he thinks. _Surely they don’t need to interrupt this._

“Si--Emperor,” the trooper says by way of greeting, Hux’s new title coming out stilted, tinged with wrongness. He falls into parade rest well before Hux has given him permission to do so -- if he had been on the _Finalizer_ , he would have sent him for reconditioning. _But_ , he muses, _a lot has changed since those days._

“What is it --” Hux stalls for a moment, trying to recall this particular troopers designation. “CN-3863?”

CN-3863 informs him of the status of the facility -- all hostile forces eliminated, limited casualties, nothing that Hux hadn’t anticipated -- before Hux dismisses him, impatient to get back to _his_ Kylo.

He ignores the way that CN-3863 refuses to look at Kylo, refuses to even acknowledge his presence in Hux’s lap. It’s not like troopers went out of their way to look at Kylo before, after all.

When the trooper leaves, footsteps echoing in a way Hux is intimately familiar, he can’t help but smile down at Kylo’s face, trace the outline of his jaw with fingers shaking in anticipation of a future in which the galaxy bows before his whims, his wishes, his _commands_. 

“Did you hear that, Kylo? He called me Emperor. We did it. Together.” Hux can’t recall a time his voice has sounded this giddy, this joyous. It probably never has.

Kylo grunts in reply, much to Hux’s delight. He’d almost given up on any sort of reactions from the knight.

“Remember, after we kissed that first time, how you tried to ignore me? For two standard month cycles, no less. Utterly ridiculous nonsense, that was.” Hux almost chuckles at the memory, the reminders of the times when he would step into a room and Kylo would flee almost immediately. He never figured out if it was from shame or arousal.

Kylo’s lips -- cracked, bloody -- quirk into the barest hint of the grin that Hux has come to appreciate, before he descends into a fit of coughing, red spilling out the side of his mouth. 

Hux doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

~*~

When Ren finally deigns to speak with him in a secluded meeting room, after two standard month cycles of silence, Hux is almost ready to breathe a sigh of relief. Almost.

It’s not like he was _worried_ or anything -- simply concerned that a valuable asset of the First Order had stopped communicating with his co-commander. After said co-commander had kissed him. And then left him on the floor, hard and wanting.

Hux couldn't exactly say that he regretted the _incident_ \-- it had given him better masturbation material than anything he'd seen on the holonet since his days at the Academy -- but the radio silence he'd received from Ren in the interim was enough to drive him to the point of frustration. And then beyond it. Far, far beyond it 

He can see words forming on Ren’s -- Kylo’s -- lips, can't help but find himself distracted by the way they move around each syllable. It's not often Kylo deigns to take his mask off.

“I'm sorry -- could you repeat that?”

Kylo rolls his eyes, but repeats his question. It's something inane about officer promotions -- Hux isn't quite sure why Kylo is interested in the first place; this is decidedly _not_ Kylo’s area of expertise, nor is it relevant to his role as general nuisance of the First Order.

“And this information is pertinent to you _how_ , exactly? Look, Ren. I haven't the faintest idea what you're trying to accomplish here, but I have a ship to run, a base to build. Do you really think I have time for this sort of ridiculousness?”

The crestfallen look he gets in response is enough to warm his heart.

“If that's all, I'll trust you can see yourself out.” Hux moves to turn on his heel, leave in what he might classify a _calculated retreat_ \-- he's definitely not running away, or so he tells himself. He's stopped by Kylo’s hand on his wrist, a strange mimicry of their first meeting. Hux fights the urge not to sigh. “What is it, Ren?”

“What we -- what we did. Can we -- again?”

Hux hates the earnestness in his voice, the strange sort of pleading he'd never thought to associate with the knight before. He won't deny that he wants it as much as Kylo, but he'll be damned if he isn't going to make him work for it.

“If you'd speak in complete sentences, Ren, your request might actually be considered.” He wrenches his wrist out of Kylo’s grip with perhaps more force than necessary, frowning to himself as he smooths the crinkled fabric of his sleeve.

“Kylo. Call -- call me Kylo. You're the only one -- the only one who matters that doesn't.” Kylo wets his lips, and Hux hates himself for watching the path of his tongue. ”Ren isn't even technically my name -- just a title. All of the Knights of Ren share the same surname.”

“Fine. What is it that you want, _Kylo_? Be specific.”

“I -- I want you to kiss me. I want you to not stop at the first sign that I might actually be enjoying myself. I want you -- I want you to teach me.” There's a slight tremor in his voice, a barely there hint of nervousness that Hux finds delightful -- or perhaps it's disgust.

“You are to follow my orders to the letter,” Hux starts, by way of agreement. He can't deny the way his fingertips itch to have someone beneath him, following his commands in the most intimate of ways. “You are not to speak unless spoken to. You are to only refer to me as _sir_. Am I understood?”

Hux watches the nervous bob of Kylo’s adam's apple, watches the way his eyes dart from Hux’s face to the door and back again. He nods, once. Hux grins in response, cruel and victorious.

“Take off these farcical layers, then.” There's an edge to Hux’s voice that wasn't there before, a steel undercurrent sharp enough to cut. He waves at the black garments Kylo has clinging to his body with two fingers, as if the action itself is enough to remove them.

Kylo complies wordlessly, shucking layers with the reckless abandon Hux has come to associate with the knight. They land on the floor in an undignified puddle one after another -- Hux has never seen anyone willingly wear so much clothing.

“Fold them, Kylo. I'll not abide a messy floor.” Images of Arkansis, oppressive rain and more oppressive parents, flash before Hux’s eyes for a moment. He blinks them away in time to hear Kylo’s scoff. “Is there something funny, Kylo? Go on, speak up.”

Kylo straightens, back ramrod stiff. “No, there's nothing. _Sir_.” The title is hastily added -- Hux can't tell if it's out of forgetfulness or a general loathing for authority, can't find it within himself to care.

He watches Kylo bend over, half undressed, to fold his clothing sloppily. The mesh undershirt he wears is equally impractical and ridiculous, the bizarre hip-waders and suspenders doubly so. 

At the very least, they leave very little to the imagination. 

Hux can feel the unmistakable pang of lust shoot through him as he watches the rippling muscles of Kylo’s stomach and back move in tandem with his body -- the realization that Kylo is in effect a well oiled killing machine makes his cock swell in a way it hasn't in years. Hux pushes the heel of his palm against the base of his cock in an effort to stave off his erection for the time being.

Kylo bends to tug off his boots, hopping inelegantly on one foot and then the other. _Apparently no one ever taught him the benefits of_ sitting down _before_ , Hux supposes in an off handed sort of manner. It's of no concern to him how Kylo removes his clothes, although the man _is_ taking a preposterously long time to do so. “Are you ever going to finish, or shall I come back in an hour?”

Kylo's head darts up from his task to shoot Hux a scowl, still balanced precariously on one foot. It's such an absurd sight that Hux can't help but bark out what might pass as a laugh amongst impolite company.

“Continue, then. I don't have all day.” Kylo shakes his head at Hux’s words, as if trying to chase away a particularly irritating insectoid. Hux turns away from him, smirking. He pulls off his gloves, one finger at a time, gently placing them on a side table.

The sound of Kylo clearing his throat in an attempt to get his attention has Hux rolling his eyes. Without turning, he prompts Kylo with a delicate “Yes?”

“I -- _everything_ , s-sir?”

“That is what I said, yes. I do trust that your hearing works. I would hate for Supreme Leader to have put his faith in someone so _defected_.”

There's disdain and hatred and, strangely, lust rolling off Kylo -- Hux can feel it, coming in waves, crashing against him. It's intriguing enough to make him turn back towards Ren, towards the murderous man he's agreed to -- well, he's not really sure what yet. Stops planning and strategizing altogether when he sees Kylo’s naked form, a strange collection of contrasts that leaves Hux equally breathless and hard.

Kylo’s body is somehow lithe and bulky, pale and marred, asymmetrical and perfectly balanced. He's standing awkwardly, shoulders hunched, hands balled at his aides like he's unsure what to do with them. His cock juts up proudly, and it occurs to Hux in that moment that he wants nothing more than to ride it, to force Kylo to do unspeakable things to him.

He tamps down on his thoughts before they run away from him, remembering Kylo’s absurd magical powers.

“Turn, Kylo. Around in a circle. Surely you don't need a demonstration?”

Kylo rolls his eyes but does as he's asked, turning slowly on the spot. A blush starts in his chest and creeps up his neck and face at the exposure.

 _Pink is a nice colour on him_ , Hux thinks errantly, and immediately loathes himself for it. He refuses to become attached to _Kylo Ren_ , of all people.

“So tell me, Kylo: why me? You could magic anyone into fucking you, or into letting you fuck them, after all.” It's an honest question -- Hux is never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but Kylo’s bizarre proposal has been floating around in his head for long enough for concerns to begin slipping in through the corners of his mind.

“I -- they are beneath me.” Kylo attempts to stand tall, or as tall as he is able to whilst still protecting what little modicum of modesty he has left. “Sir.”

“And I'm not?”

“We’re equals. It's -- different.” Hux nods, understanding what Kylo is attempting to say so ineloquently. He walks purposefully towards the knight, grins at the way Ren visibly recoils from him. Slim fingers dart out, capture Kylo’s chin, and Hux takes a moment to turn his head from side to side, examine what has become his, if only for a short while.

“You’ll suffice,” Hux mutters, pushing Ren’s face away with one ungloved thumb.

He ignores the way Kylo leans into the touch.

“On your knees, hands behind your back.” 

Kylo drops to his knees almost immediately in compliance, and Hux grins when he hears the slight crunch that traditionally accompanies the sudden impact of bone on durasteel. Kylo's face remains impassive save for the slightest twitch of his lips.

Hux steps forward, looms over Kylo in the way he’s always secretly wanted to. He's almost proud of Kylo for not flinching. Almost.

The telltale click and rustle of Hux’s belt being removed from his jodhpurs fills the silence of the room. Kylo swallows on nothing, eyes darting everywhere except for directly in front of him, to the slim hands toying with a series of buttons. It frustrates Hux to the point of irritation.

“Eyes forward, Kylo. How are you supposed to learn if you refuse to pay attention?” Hux’s voice is bordering on genuine teasing now -- he can tell that it leaves Kylo confused, but he follows his orders nonetheless. Amber eyes rest on Hux’s fingers just in time to witness him pulling out his cock -- half hard and flushed.

Hux smirks down at Kylo, who can't seem to tear his eyes off of the sight before him.

“I would imagine that you're well acquainted with your own -- it's exactly the same in all the ways that matter.” When Kylo doesn't make a move to do, well, _anything_ , Hux sighs. “Touch it. It won't bite.”

The first tentative brush of Kylo’s fingers along the length of his cock make Hux gasp -- it's clearly been far too long since he's let someone touch him like this.

Kylo’s strokes slowly become less awkward -- whether it's due to an increase in self-confidence or the blasted mind-reading, Hux can't be sure.

“Suck it, K-Kylo.” The stammer is a weakness, but if Kylo notices it, he doesn't say anything.

He leans forward, breathing lightly on the flushed head of Hux’s cock. He looks up at Hux with trepidation in his eyes.

“Do you think I have all day?”

Kylo shakes his head and frowns up at him, hand sliding down Hux’s cock to grip it at the base. Without breaking eye contact, Kylo takes the head of his cock in his mouth.

Hux's world explodes into a burst of white stars behind his eyes.

“I -- pfassk, Kylo.” He grips Kylo's hair in one hand, the other coming up to his own mouth in an attempt to muffle his -- he refuses to consider them whimpers, of all absurd things.

His hips begin shallowly thrusting into the alluring wet heat of Kylo’s mouth -- he might loathe the man, but he also doesn't want to choke him on his cock. It occurs to Hux that this might be the first charitable thing he's ever done for someone he’s taken to bed.

Kylo moans around Hux’s cock, swirling his tongue around the head, attempting to keep time with the movement of Hux’s hips. Hux watches as Kylo slides a hand down to run slowly along his own cock.

“Did I say that -- kriff -- that you were allowed to touch yourself?”

Kylo reluctantly pulls his hand off his cock, glaring daggers at Hux. Hux sneers.

For a time -- Hux isn't sure if it's five hours or five minute -- there's only the sound of Kylo’s whorish mouth around his cock, slowly bringing Hux closer and closer to an edge he can't help but want to tumble over. Instead, he tugs Kylo off his cock by the hair, panting.

Hux takes himself in hand, pace quickening as he nears his release. Kylo sits on his haunches, looks up at Hux with confusion in his eyes.

Hux closes his eyes as he comes, thick spurts of milky white painting his hand and Kylo's face. The hand still buried in Kylo’s hair forces his face up, forces him to accept whatever Hux is going to give him. 

When Hux is done, he opens his eyes, smiles at the mess he's made of Ren. “The next time you want a _lesson_ , find me during the free hours of the evening. I have a ship to run, a weapon to complete. I can't waste my active duty hours on instruction.”

He wipes his sullied hand through Kylo’s hair before tucking himself into his pants, straightening his clothes.

Hux turns, intent on leaving, before thinking better of it. “Do be a good boy and clean yourself up, would you? I would hate for someone to find you in this state,” Hux says, saccharine sweet.

He leaves with a spring in his step.

~*~

The plan was initially Kylo’s idea. The Knights of Ren as a whole had grown disappointed in Snoke’s leadership, in his inhibiting rule over their master. The failure with the scavenger was attributed to Snoke, not Kylo, they said. It was he who should have been punished, not their master.

A change in organizational structure was necessary for the continued success of the First Order, for _them_. 

Hux still isn't sure if this is entirely true, or if it was simply Kylo’s idea of a romantic gesture: overcome impossible odds, win the galaxy in the name of the man you love for the organization he will always love more. It sounded more like the holovids his mother was always watching, before father sent her away.

Kylo’s protestations that this was their manifest destiny, their _birthright_ , coupled with months upon months of careful planning and clandestine meetings was enough to assuage even the largest of Hux’s reservations. Kylo had insisted that he'd seen visions of Hux, clad in white, golden laurels atop his head, ruling over systems spanning the galaxy.

Hux supposes that Kylo simply forgot to mention that he was entirely absent from those visions himself.

“Kylo, I --I love --” Hux pauses, entirely still, watching Kylo’s chest for the telltale signs of life.

They never come.

~*~

To Hux’s surprise, their meetings continue. He learns that Kylo craves what he can offer -- the chance to be used, degraded, treated like the filth he is.

Their encounters always happen in Kylo’s quarters -- Hux never stays any longer than he absolutely must. He isn't sure if that's a part of the appeal for Kylo or if it's simply something that he's come to expect is part and parcel of their little _arrangement_. 

Hux begins to notice tell-tale signs of affection months before Kylo chooses to mention them. He runs through scenario after scenario in his head, trying to ascertain the best answer, the answer that will enable him to continue his liaison with Ren without actually admitting that he doesn't feel the same way.

Inevitably, he comes to the realization that the easiest solution is simply to lie. Lie, and give Kylo what he wants. 

Hux never truly determines if Kylo is able to snuff out his lies, his untruths.

Hux never truly determines if they're really lies after all.

~*~

Clad in white, stained in crimson, Emperor Hux emerges from the chamber. He inhales through his nose, drinking in the stench of death and decay -- he marvels at how similar victory smells. He glances over, nods to his security detail.

“Burn it. All of it.” His voice is clear, strong.

It does not waver.

**Author's Note:**

> If you hate me, come yell at me at [kyloknightofren](www.kyloknightofren.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Also special thanks to misaya for giving me the plot bunny that inspired this!


End file.
